un-be-lievable
Feb 9th
Last Wednesday, I came down with a stomach bug. Fever, vomiting, everything that a stomach bug entails.
Anthony was able to hold the fort down until Jimmy came home, when he went into quarantine mode and locked me in my room for the next 2 days.
By Saturday morning, I was feeling better, so I got to work *trying* to clean up the mess I’d made and the bigger mess they’d made. I managed to get the dishes all washed, and all my sick clothes cleaned.
Of course, with the storm going, I couldn’t get out to buy stuff like I should have but I had gone out on Thursday night with a 102 fever to get the necessities, like milk & bread (don’t even say it).
Well, Saturday afternoon, Anthony started feeling lousy. Saturday night, Libby started feeling lousy. Libby didn’t throw up but Anthony did.
Sunday, I managed to get some help and got the driveway plowed so I could go out and buy one thing I didn’t stock up on – DIAPERS. So off I went, after having loaded the dishwasher (but not running it), ran the washer with the last of my nasty bed linens. When I came back from a rather harrowing run to the store, I went to wash out MORE dishes, and the water from the faucet simply stopped.
I checked under the sink, I checked the bathroom sinks – no water. Uhoh.
I called Jimmy, but he was wrapped up in a hockey game w/Anthony on the PS2. I hmmmed and tried it again. Nothing. I came in to check on the computer for solutions, but nothing really sprang to mind. When Jimmy finally got around to it, he went to check and then called his father, as they have well water too. His father had him check the pump breaker, which was fine, but other than that, was clueless too. I finally called the management company, to whom we write a very big check to every month. Meanwhile, Jimmy’s stomach had started cramping up on him and he was very tired all of a sudden. Anthony had been up and down all day but was at least up at that point.
90 minutes later, I had heard nothing from the management company, so I called them back, leaving a more detailed, urgent message , including I HAVE SICK KIDS!
They called back minutes later. There’s really nothing they can do, it’s Sunday, people are still snowed in, it’s the Super Bowl (HE SERIOUSLY SAID THIS TO ME), yadda yadda yadda.
I said umm… we have NO water. I couldn’t even buy water at Walmart because they had none. We have NO toilets.
Apologetic, but clueless. He called the plumber.
The plumber called me right back. Explained to me what he’d have to do because it sounded like the well pump had burned out.
The well pump – which is buried under anywhere between 150 to 750 feet OF EARTH, plus ya know… TWO FEET OF SNOW.
Well, ain’t that just lovely.
Jimmy & I brought snow in to melt and use in the toilets for last night, and things went smoothly, basically. He really started feeling bad again, so he went to bed at around 8 and I shuttled the kids into bed before 10.
At 3, Zachary woke me up yet again, kicking and whining. I figured he was wanting yet ANOTHER bottle (again, please DON’T go there), and when I came back, he was asleep IN my spot – so I stayed up. I got on my computer, to complain, mainly. Then I heard that all too familiar sound of a child getting ready to spew.
Child Number Three, Come On Down! YOU are the next contestant on The Puke Is Right!
Well, I didn’t hear it IN TIME, because before I took the 3 steps between my computer chair and my bed, he’d already tossed his milkcookies everywhere – every.where.
Unfortunately for Zachary, he’s never been sick like this before, so he just has NO clue why we’re suddenly plunging him headlong towards a bucket and he just wants to keep turning his head – but ya know, the thing was – he didn’t WANT THE BUCKET. Nooooo, he’s much more content to just turn his head and let it ooze/fly out of his mouth and down his neck, into his hair/ear/my poor dead mattress.
Good times.
He continued to wake up to throw up about every 20 minutes for the next few hours, but finally fell asleep for a while. The plumbers showed up at 8am, and by 1:30pm, we had a new well water pump, which they had to extract from 605 feet BELOW the earth (and snow).
Once they got to work, though, I headed to the bank and the market and when I got home a couple of hours later, I’d brought them coffee & donuts and they told me that in 10 years of working in the state of WV, I was the first person to ever buy him coffee in the cold like that. But omg, 15 degrees or so, pulling out cable from the ground, then having to put it back in, all the while it being so cold and wet. Ugh. They deserved coffee & donuts!
When I got home from the market, though, Zachary was up and around – back to his crazy busy self, seemingly unfazed by his ordeal during the night. I’m crossing my fingers, toes, eyes, younameit that we’ve come to a very abrupt ending to a crappy weekend and for very LITTLE snowfall for tomorrow.
And now?
SHOWERS FOR EVERYONE! YAYYYY.
EDIT: Spoke too soon! Libby started last night. Good times. My poor babies.
SNOWPOCOLYPSE! RUN RUN RUN!
Feb 7th
I thought we moved out of New Hampshire.
My THOUSANDS of dollars of cre-dit ca-rd d-e-b-t (trying to discourage the spammers) tell me that we did move out of New Hampshire. LAST YEAR, as a matter of fact, we moved out of New Hampshire. We drove our weather-weary butts 600 miles south of New Hampshire. We drove our weather-weary butts, our 3 children’s weather-weary butts, our 2 cats’ weather-weary butts (ok, so they weren’t really weary YET – but we saved them from that, or so we THOUGHT!) 593.02 miles miles SOUTH OF NEW HAMPSHIRE.
BELOW the Mason-Dixon Line, even!
We moved South. SOUUUUUTH.
To West Virrrrrginiaaaaaa.
but uh…
32
Feb 4th
My mom & dad were married on February 4th, 1978. 32 years later, they’re still crazy for each other, but in very much different ways LOL
I love you mom & dad 
HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!
Pictured from left to right: Me (flower girl), my aunt (matron of honor), justice of the peace, mom, dad, my oldest brother Bobby (ring bearer), and my mom’s brother Bobby, the best man.
an end and a beginning
Feb 1st
It was a year ago that my bio father died. Because we had been estranged for years before, I didn’t feel as upset as some might, but I did feel bad that he’d died as he had.
He’d wasted away in his later years, going from an easily 300 lb man to barely 100 lbs. He didn’t know anyone, and spent his days lost in his own mind.
Part of me was glad about that, hoping that he was reminded day after day of the time he’d wasted, staying away from me, his only child, as well as his grandchildren. I wasn’t proud of that part of me, but with discussion with my therapist, I came to realize that it was almost to be expected.
I did, however, expect to be angry at his passing, because now I knew – KNEW – I’d never get the answers I’d looked for for so long.
I’d struggled with many issues related to him for years, with the cliche’ abandonment surfacing with several other relationships. I knew I’d never find out WHY he would never maintain a relationship with me, even though I tried when I could, he never tried. Or at least, I didn’t see it.
There was to be a memorial service for him, scheduled for 2 weeks later. As his closest living relative, it was up to me to finalize the paperwork with the funeral home, but that was it. Just a signature and I was done with that part. It was almost too easy.
Two weeks later, I drove to RI to attend the memorial. I worried that the very large portion of his side of the family would feel that I didn’t belong there, that I hadn’t been a part of his life, why should I be a part of his death.
And as luck or fate would have it, we arrived to the hall late, so I didn’t have time to socialize with my aunts and grandmother, as the preacher had already begun.
My bio father came from a BIG family – he was one of 12 children, 11 of whom were still living at his death. They were all there, as well as many of their kids, grandkids, etc. I didn’t know most of them. I didn’t know if they knew me. I felt like an imposter.
Once the preaching was done, my aunts and I got a chance to talk. Although there are 4 other males, none of them really spoke to me, but all of my aunts did, which made me feel more at home there. They also explained a lot of things to me that I hadn’t known about, things that he’d told them or that they knew he felt.
Although his death was an obvious ending to a long era for me as the seemingly unwanted daughter, I’ve since been able to reestablish a relationship with a couple of my aunts, and gratefully, several cousins as well. I’ve made friends where I didn’t expect to, and have expanded my family. Essentially, his death brought a new beginning, and one which I am grateful for.
Perhaps the best thing to happen from all of it, though, was that it provided closure for me that I hadn’t expected either. I no longer feel angry that I won’t get those answers, because his sisters and life-long friend provided those answers and removed the guilt that I’d built up.
It wasn’t me.
Looking for advice from you…
Jan 28th
my readers. Those that have come and those that have gone over the last 3+ years – those that have left comments and those that haven’t – those that have emailed me and those that haven’t.
I wrote a blog post on BlogHer.com asking for opinions on changing my blog name – because Coming to a Nursery Near You just doesn’t seem to make sense here anymore. That baby came, and although never physcially had a nursery, certainly doesn’t have one anymore. He’s going to be THREE next month!
My blog has evolved from being a pregnancy blog to a new mom blog, talking about gestational diabetes and night sweats to breastfeeding, co-sleeping and fifty million diaper changes. From there, we went to the depression. Oh the depression. The depression that’s followed me to this day – and has certainly formed it’s own identity on this blog – has taken hold of me and my writing. Perhaps it’s the depression and the depressive writing that’s driven off all but a very very few commenters, I don’t know.
I do know that the focus of my blog has changed, and I’ve pretty much decided to change the name of my blog.
So I come to you, those quiet, stealthy readers, to ask your thoughts on a new blog name.
This will require you to hit that little button that says “comment”
Please?
PRETTY PLEASE? 
